Chapter 4 - The Missing Discharge Papers
Ellis returned with two laundry baskets of baby supplies and one black suitcase.
No discharge folder.
“It isn’t there,” he said.
“Did you check the kitchen?”
“Yes.”
“Bedroom?”
“Yes.”
“Damon’s office?”
“The officer wouldn’t let me search through his private files.”
That was reasonable.
It still bothered Blythe.
The discharge paperwork contained routine instructions.
Warning signs.
Medication information.
Follow-up appointments.
Postpartum mental-health resources.
Nothing Damon should have needed to hide.
The next morning, Blythe called her obstetrician’s office and asked for another copy.
The nurse reviewed her scheduled follow-ups.
“Your one-week blood-pressure check is Thursday.”
Blythe frowned.
“I thought Damon canceled it.”
“It was never canceled.”
“He told me your office called and said I didn’t need it.”
The nurse went quiet.
“Nobody documented that.”
Blythe felt something inside her settle.
Not panic.
Clarity.
Damon had lied about a medical appointment.
She asked for every scheduled postpartum visit to be confirmed directly with her going forward.
Then she changed the password on her patient portal.
She changed her email password.
Her banking password.
Her phone account password.
Each small action made her realize how many ordinary parts of her life Damon could access.
The cost appeared immediately.
Their joint checking account was nearly empty.
Blythe had assumed Damon was paying the hospital deductible, mortgage, and regular bills.
Instead, large transfers had gone into a savings account she did not recognize.
She called the bank.
Because the account receiving the money was not hers, they could provide only limited information.
But they confirmed the transfers had been initiated from Damon’s online login.
Blythe sat at Ellis’s kitchen table staring at six months of transactions.
“This isn’t about sleep.”
Ellis looked over her shoulder.
“No.”
Blythe hated the relief inside that answer.
Sleep deprivation could be treated.
A terrible moment could be regretted.
This looked older.
More deliberate.
Then her phone rang.
Loretta.
Blythe almost ignored it.
Instead she answered.
Neither woman spoke for several seconds.
Finally Loretta said, “Is the baby safe?”
“Yes.”
“And you?”
“Yes.”
Loretta exhaled.
Blythe’s voice hardened.
“Why were you talking to Damon about me before Arlo was born?”
Silence.
May you like
Then Loretta said something Blythe did not expect.
“Because he asked me to help him prove you weren’t fit to keep your own child.”
